Cluttered thought's thirst to inspire-
Blocked feelings in a scolding ire
As my pen quivered to scribble a word,
Ennui loomed large and my ink blurred.
I mustered up words, but they seemed vacuous.
Even the grief and fear seemed innocuous.
All the tears forced out of vapid cries-
desiccated on an arid parchment of lies.
Now, Im in a perpetual struggle to unravel my emotion.
What's real? Whats fictitious? A Perpetual commotion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That can be quite the knot to unravel; though I love your intertwining of words Poet :)